


Need

by Paper_Crane_Song



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 15:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20876543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paper_Crane_Song/pseuds/Paper_Crane_Song
Summary: It doesn’t matter what you say, I just need to hear you say it.





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> I was reminded again recently of how much Illya and Napoleon love being with each other and near to each other, so this little scene came out of that. Also, remember that there is always hope.
> 
> Feedback is really welcome. Thanks for reading.

Napoleon’s communicator trilled and he snatched it up.

“Illya?”

There was a pause, and he held his breath, straining his ears for any sound. Then - 

_“Napoleon.”_ The voice was faint, but it was definitely Illya.

He jumped to his feet. “Where are you? Are you all right?”

Another pause. “_It doesn’t matter.”_

Something was very wrong. “Stay on the line, I’ll ring HQ - “

“_No! There’s no time.”_ It sounded like that outburst had cost him because he didn’t speak again for a long moment. Napoleon could only stand there in the dark of his apartment, his heart thudding so hard within his chest that the sound of it nearly drowned out the hitched breathing coming from the communicator.

And then, finally, Illya spoke again, and Napoleon almost wished that he hadn’t, because when Illya said his name his voice broke, and he realised that it wasn’t that Illya was struggling to breathe, it was that he was struggling not to cry.

_”Napoleon.”_

“Illya,” he said again, because he had to say something. Fear was coursing through him, the communicator shaking in his hand. 

“_I’m sorry,” _Illya said, and he was weeping openly now,_ “needed to hear your voice. Selfish.”_

“No,” he said, and he meant it, because Illya never asked him for anything, yet Napoleon always gave it anyway, and if Illya was asking now - “How long have you got?”

_“Not long.”_

“All right,” and he pushed back the black terror, made his voice purposefully strong. “I was in Paris last week. I had some time so I took a stroll around the Sorbonne.” He waited for Illya to respond, and eventually Illya said faintly, 

_“The Sorbonne.”_

“Yes, it was pretty nice and all, though I could have done with you there as my tour guide.” His chest clenched. “Then before that I was in Rhodes. It reminded me of the time when you and I - “

He kept talking, longer than he should have, longer than was reasonable, because he couldn’t bear what would happen when he stopped talking. Eventually though his nerve gave out, he couldn’t take it anymore, he needed to hear his partner’s voice - “Illya?”

Now he was shouting, “Illya? Illya?”

But there was only silence.

_Finis _


End file.
